Chapter 20: Booted From Paradise Pt II

I was apparently wrong. It appeared that the trailers weren't the only place the brothels' services were carried out if the horrendous smell that entered my nose upon entry to the establishment proper was any indication. I kept my composure and assumed my men did too as we shuffled past the dirty wasters and refugee men crowding the entrance before we went under a wide doorframe. Another woman bouncer told us to enjoy our stay and pointed out the bar on the far side of the large open room. Past the crowds and over the heads of the dozen completely occupied tables, I scanned the room. There were nearly as many people in here as there were outside. Dozens of wasters, refugee men, and women in dirty short mishmash dresses went to and fro or occupied all the tables. I scanned the room, my men behind me scanning as well. All the while we took in the smell of over a hundred dirty bodies in a packed room; the smell of sweat, cigarette smoke, alcohol, grease, paint, and even gunpowder, all beneath the overpowering smell of… sex filled our noses. Then I saw them.

There at a table near the left end of the long bar was a table with 6 chairs packed around it with Lt. Doyle at the head and Lt. Pryor beside him. Beside Pryor appeared to be Duncan Schmitt, and the rest of the chairs were empty. All of us nearly unrecognizable in our wastelander garb, Doyle caught eyes with me by the entrance with my men, and made a motion with his head. I pointed out Doyle to John and he led the boys past me towards the table before I followed in rear.

Through the crowds we went, John, Nathan and Ramos took their seats at Doyle and Pryor's table when a group of drunk men stumbled past me. I took the opportunity to scan the room again, noticing most of the women, whether they were on the laps of men, talking in corners, or leading men to private places, most bore the sun-touched skin and garb of women we'd seen in the refugee village around the old ranch of Judah Black.

The discovery of who these prostitutes were and how they were so many of the ones my brothers and sisters in the refugee camp tried to help made me sad. As I looked around, I felt very strange, seeing many of the apparent refugee prostitutes were so differing in their faces. Some sat on the laps of men, laughing with the men at the tables, some were standing in the corners with solemn faces as crowds of men gathered around them. Some of the prostitutes were bruised and wearing fake smiles while refugee men stood close by and scowled at the women as if to say these prostitutes' wives or daughters were being forced into pleasing the customers.

The diversity and overall sadness amongst the majority of women selling themselves had already set my mind on the immediate shutdown of this place as soon as possible. Yet there was something else that only confirmed this in my eyes when I saw a group of young girls perhaps between 13 to 16 standing in one of the far corners wearing worried looks as even more groups of men gathered around them. I didn't know if the girls in that corner were only there while their mothers or older sisters worked, but even the possibility of those girls so young acting as prostitutes made my rage build and I promised I'd confirm the situation myself or with Doyle before the operation began. Then, my rage cooled, and my mind went elsewhere for the moment when my eyes landed on one woman who wasn't bearing the standard appearance of a refugee prostitute. The pale woman reclining against a wall beside two drunk men arguing with one another was staring at me. She was clearly a prostitute as well, but when I caught her eye, she motioned with her hand for me to approach.

I looked back to Doyle, caught his gaze, and he was already engaged with John, Nathan, and Ramos. I gave him a nod, he gave me one back, and my message had been communicated: I'll blend in, and you catch my boys up on the plan. I turned back to the prostitute leaning against the wall; she'd obviously begun scanning for new potential customers when I looked away, but upon catching eyes with me again, she made the same gesture as before and I approached.

As I maneuvered around the packed tables and through the drunks stumbling around, the arguing men beside the pale prostitute were pushing each other towards the exit, and I stepped up to the woman. She certainly wasn't a refugee woman, neither in physical build or complexion, nor by what she was wearing. She was fairly pretty for a regular waster. Looking mid-twenties with long dark hair, somewhat pale ashy skin, tall black dusty boots, short jean shorts, and if I wasn't sure she was a prostitute by what I wrote above, her bare skin from the waist up was exposed between the flaps of the unbuttoned whitish fur coat. Since there weren't any signs of a bra in the exposed portion of her chest, that seemed to confirm it.

I positioned myself close by, leaned myself back up against the wall beside her, and looked out over the room, ready for a casual conversation before I inevitably declined her offer. I was surprised when the first thing she said beneath the noise of the packed establishment was;

"Are you and your New Canaan buddies here to shut us down?"

It took a moment for me to register what she said mostly because it was the way she said it. The way she asked that was almost as seductive as if she was telling me what she would allow me to do to her if I paid the right price.

I glanced at her, those dark red lips curled into a smile in the dim yellow lighting, and she gestured towards the table where Doyle and Pryor sat with my men.

"Why would you think that?" I asked, trying not to give her the impression those words affected me the way they did.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see that smile widen, "I can spot New Canaanites a mile off, even if the bouncers are too stupid to do it too. The three at that table before you showed up haven't had one sip of the drinks in front of them the past ten minutes."

I noticed that too. Just as Nathan asked earlier, Doyle and Pryor did indeed authorize the men to get drinks. Although the glasses before Doyle, Pryor, and Mr. Schmitt were mostly full, it did appear there was some of it they'd consumed. The comment from the woman on my left merely showed that they ordered the drinks, but they certainly weren't enjoying it unlike almost everyone else in the establishment.

Just then my eyes scanned the room once more and suddenly it appeared as if a great many of the wasters had disappeared, and the rest of Doyle and Pryor's men were all I could see throughout the establishment.

All I could say to the woman's observation was "You just see them, huh?..." giving a nod towards Doyle's table as my eyes landed on Hudson and Ray standing beside the two bouncers by the entrance. Both of them were talking, and it appeared Ray was the only one enjoying the permission to drink based on the amount of liquid left in his glass.

"I know there's more of you…" said the woman, still looking at Doyle's table as she went on, "Those three are just the most obvious before your buddies sat down… Wanna know how else I can prove you're a New Canaanite?"

As she spoke my eyes found Lockwood and Mitchell standing together close to two other bouncers by the entrance to a hall across the room. On the right side of the bar and near two other bouncers were Ankrah and Loamanoori, two tribal converts part of Pryor's detachment who I almost didn't recognize. The two tribal guardsmen stood near the edge of a table filled with their brethren of the wilderness, blending right into the surroundings.

I landed on a total of 10 guardsmen in the establishment, but I knew from the Constable's brief that Pryor and Doyle had brought at least a few more. Still, I felt myself absently answer the prostitute's question of how else she could prove I was a New Canaanite with a simple, "How's that?" as my eyes landed on McMahan standing beside the bar engaged in conversation with a bouncer.

My focus returned to the woman beside me when I caught her glance down at my hand. Then it returned even more when I felt her fingers gently turning the wedding ring on my finger. I clenched my hands into fists, knowing women of her type usually weren't above stealing, but she only gripped my hand even softer, her finger tapped on my ring, and she then proved her point even more as she whispered;

"My standard price is 4 Canaa Coins or 50 bullets 9 mill up for ten minutes. Just for you though, I'll give you a full hour for one coin no limits…" she paused, smiled even wider when she saw my face, and purred, "I'm serious too. Trailer 8 should be free now?"

Immediately I stuffed my hand in my pocket, double checking that my ring was firmly on, and replied simply, "Maybe if I was younger… unmarried… and if I didn't see my eldest daughter when I look at a girl as young as yourself. Thanks for the offer though."

She retreated, placing her hand in her own pocket as she nearly choked in amusement, "Ha, I like you Godly men… Particularly the younger ones, no offense. Had a man like your friend over there but two nights ago."

As relieved as I was for her to switch targets, my comfort level was still far below normal levels when she gestured towards the table. It was hard to tell if she was pointing at Mr. Ramos or Duncan Schmitt since he sat across from Mr. Ramos. Either way, I irrationally felt the two near-boys were in immediate danger, and I remained very uncomfortable. Seeing her proposed new targets, my young friends of the guard, I felt the nearly overpowering urge to rush over and hug the two of them and keep them safe in this den of... wicked women.

All I could say in response to what she said about her previous customer was, "You catch the guy's name? Or know who his parents are?"

She was smart, and returned her attention to me saying, "Yes I did. But that's between him and I. Telling on my clients, their parents or… wives… is bad for business. I'm sure you understand." I didn't understand. I also didn't like the way she winked at me when she said "wives" with that peculiar emphasis.

I was done being toyed with, and after all the distractions this woman was excellent at creating, I remembered how she began our talk and said;

"So you know there's a lot of New Canaanites here tonight? What's your point? You gonna report to the bouncers or something?"

Then she reminded me of the other part of her introduction, saying, "I just can't imagine why a man who turns down an offer like the one I gave you would come here with so many of his friends?... You know, other than to shut us down of course. I also imagine you're packing tonight, and not just that snake in those ill-fitting trousers."

At this I brushed my hand against the grip of the pistol on my right hip and nearly jumped when she brushed her hand against the part of me reserved for my wife alone at the same time she said the word "Snake." The face I made must have been something sinister (or righteous) because she returned her hand to the pocket of her coat in an instant and chuckled before I physically shook my head back into focus and asked her;

"So what if we Are here to shut this place down?" while doing my best to make sure my volume wasn't too high and internally screaming "You may be able to tempt Eve but you can't tempt me and my men, you… Snake!"

It was true she wasn't that attractive to me despite how young and pretty she was for a woman of the wastes, but even if her charms were more than enough to tempt the men of Ramos and Duncan's age, her charms were definitely enough to at least throw me internally off balance.

Either way, the moment sobered up, and perhaps she realized the level of my discomfort because she turned it all down a notch and replied to the question of "So what if we are here to shut this place down" again in a way I didn't expect;

"What's New Canaan's problem with prostitutes anyway? I thought Christ preferred the company of prostitutes over priests?"

Then I guessed it was my turn to throw her off balance because I returned automatically, "I suppose that's something else He and I have in common."

She really must have not been expecting that because she snorted loudly in an effort to stifle a laugh. She and I remained in our own bubble within the packed room as she collected herself and asked, "You spend a lot of time with prostitutes? You certainly don't act like it."

I shrugged, "Give me the chance to talk to the Elders or talk to you, I think I'd prefer you… If not for services, then at least for amusement."

"Never had a man in the white robes, so I'm curious…" said the woman, her chosen topics of conversation and suggestion of familiarity with our church just now catching up to me as she asked, "… You get your orders to show up tonight from the Elders and Bishop or from God?..."

All of that again was said in a strangely sexual manner, and even if the latter part was said with malicious intent, it certainly didn't feel that way when I looked at her young face and saw that smile. Then, her seemingly intimate familiarity with New Canaan came to me again as her words caught up with me. I squinted my eyes in study of her face and a mind filled with recollections of home when my mouth spoke for me;

"Lila Yetter?"

The young woman's face didn't change one bit as she replied very cooly and with that smile, "Calli Carson… Carson ain't my real surname, earned that for a holo-film I did in Carson City. Still not a 'Yetter' though…"

She extended the hand from her pocket towards me, "… You?"

I shook her hand, "Paul Young" and both our hands returned to our pockets when she asked, "Who's Lila Yetter?"

"Just a girl…" said I before looking back to survey the room, adding, "… Ran away from home 2 maybe 3 years back. Smart girl, wasn't home from mission for three months when she left…" I let the rest die and the young woman took in the view as well;

"Got tired of being the perfect Christian girl and went to make her own way in the world huh?"

"By opening her legs for anyone who comes askin' about price? Yeah…" said I, "… Still happens once every few years…" I felt her gaze return to the side of my head and added, "… Thought you might'a been her."

The woman's gaze went back to the surroundings as she said, "That's how you thought I knew so much about you all?..."

She was right, that was how I thought it, but since the girl wasn't the long-lost Lila Yetter, I lost interest, and figured her to have just grown up in a nearby township before finding herself in Carson City Nevada… This lack of further interest was much to Calli Carson's sadness. I felt her look back at me, seemingly troubled by my lack of response to her question. After a moment, she'd moved on as well, telling me;

"You still didn't answer my question about why you're here."

I turned to her, feeling slightly unnerved about his stranger's flippant questions towards me and my faith. I felt even stranger still that she wasn't a lost lamb, just someone who knew more than they should, but with seemingly plenty of judgements and wit about things they didn't Truly understand. I turned to face her;

"Am I here because of the word of the Elders or the word of God?"

She nodded, face still calm and that mouth still smiling almost gently or even understandingly, "Sure."

Without even looking at her, I studied the faces across the room. Seeing all the prostitutes of so many ages, and seeing all the dirty, unshaven, cackling faces of so many intoxicated wasters, I caught eyes with almost all of the guardsmen in the room very briefly as I answered her question;

"I'm here because I see the kind of scum who congregate at places like this. Because I see so many women here who degrade themselves out of desperation. Because the women here including yourself deserve better than to offer so casually what men should be trying hard to Earn. Because I see little girls here, some almost as young as 13 from the looks of things, taking a torch to their own innocence for a quick buck; I see their mothers or fathers letting it happen, and the men who partake. I'm here because I see my daughters all grown up when I look at your face, and how those amazing gifts to the world I raised deserve so much better than the best this lot could give or pay them. I'm here because the Constable asked for volunteers to remove this stain bearing a façade of relation to our home, and I'm here because I was told by my friend what you all did to the man who came to you in peace with a simple demand on behalf of our community's leadership. The Elders didn't tell me or the Constable, or any of my men here to do anything on behalf of themselves or God. We came here because we love our home, and we love you. We believe you and all those here deserve better than the literal stench and degradation of humanity shown in this place. Even if we have to hammer it into you or drive you away to show it. I believe our God thinks you deserve more too, so I'll happily serve as an instrument of His if you believe that is the case… I hope that answers your question…"

There was a moment of pause that hovered between us and it appeared to happen as she took in everything I said. The world outside our little bubble went on. Men carted women to rooms down the far halls or out the doors to the trailers, and the roar of laughter continued while all the men of New Canaan stood beside their marks ready to act on their duty regardless of age or experience in a place like this. After a short few seconds, Calli the prostitute said;

"… I told them the name wasn't a good idea…" Momentarily puzzled that part was what caught her attention, I looked at her and saw her face was still calm even if that smile was shrunken slightly and colored with concern.

"… I also want to let you know that I had nothing to do with the stuff that happened to that missionary guy yesterday afternoon…" Apparently not even addressing the stuff about the children I mentioned, I took that as something of a confirmation of my assumption, especially when she went on, "… I get it, I get your worry, I do. But just remember that there's a Lot of women here that are going to have nothing and no way to support themselves if this is shut down. Including yours truly."

I met her eyes and her expression remained as I said, "We weren't asking the owners to shut down. Our missionary told you all just to move, and to change the name to something less offensive to us."

She nodded, seeming to understand, yet still she replied, "Asking to move is still the same as shutting down. The bosses can't just move a whole trailer park 8 miles south-"

Before she could say anything else, I interrupted her, feeling even more in control of what was happening in this place. Perhaps this sudden sincere sternness in my demeanor was a sign that Lt. Camden was nearby. Either way, I told the woman directly;

"That is not our problem. There are other towns, neighborhoods, and service stations outside of our direct territor-"

Then she interrupted me. Not angrily, not spitefully, just curiously, and as if she was still dealing with a somewhat disagreeable "client." She said;

"But that'll cripple the market. I don't think those welps in the refugee village will be able to make it so far, especially the gals…" As she said this, I felt the nearly uncontrollable urge to laugh and scream how that was exactly the point when she continued, "… The girls we have here don't have much other than their bodies to make money, and from everything I heard in the markets before this place was set up is that New Canaan simply can't keep up with the demand of all the refugees…" She paused, seeing what I was going to say had already died, and concluded, "… You aren't helping the women here by doing this, you're hurting them. Here, they have some power over their situation."

She let this sink in the way it did after I spoke, but as appealing as it was to my reason and sensibilities, it wasn't enough. This place was a stain. I knew the Elders and charity workers had contingencies in the event of charity shortages, and although I couldn't list them for certain immediately after she was done speaking, I thought of my daughter and my wife. Places like this told all women inside of New Canaan and everyone we tried to help that sometimes it was ok to degrade oneself. Sometimes it was alright to abandon faith that something will come along to rescue you from having to lower yourself to such a degree. That was something I could not believe. There was Always something else, whether you could fathom what that Something Else is in the dark or not. I knew that firsthand, and I loved my wife, my daughters, the refugee women, and even this woman too much to let this monument to degradation stand as I said;

"You can trick yourself into saying it's liberation, or taking control of an unfortunate situation, but the truth is that it's pretending, pretending to assert some kind of control over some loss of innocence that happened long ago. Whether that loss was on your own volition or someone else's the women here are not providing for themselves or their families. I won't have a place like this continue to tell my daughters and sisters of the community that a place like this can help in a bad situation, or 'empower' them when I've seen faith rescue people in far worse predicaments time and again. Whether you hate me for it or not, I'll do what I can to destroy this opportunity for the women here to sell themselves and call it love because that's what I feel it is. I want what's best for you too, and you deserve far better than This because selling yourself is not power or control. It's sad."

The woman looked as though she was going to say something else but then stopped before it could escape her lips. She raised her shoulders a moment and then said, "I don't hate you…" I turned back to the room but felt her eyes remain on the side of my face when she added, "… I don't think I really agree with you…" Again, she stopped before proceeding, "… I also know how useless it is to argue with a man like you New Canaanite types…"

This made me smile for some reason I couldn't quite figure. I think it was because of some sort of strange understanding between two people who, like in the old days, could still befriend one another even if they didn't agree on topics like politics, religion, or things like that. All I could say after that was what was true;

"I'm sure there's plenty you could argue against what I've said, but there's yet another truth that hasn't been mentioned…" She perked her ears, and her expression returned to the one she bore prior to my sermonizing, "… This is still New Canaan's territory. Our authority will not be questioned or challenged here. What we say goes, and the simple answer to everything you or the owners of this place could argue will boil down to our community's only answer: 'Not under my roof.'"

The woman brought her foot up to the wall she leaned upon, exposing a slightly tattered fishnet-covered knee out from under her coat, and after a long moment said casually without that seduction from earlier;

"Lansing."

I returned my attention to her briefly, "Sorry?"

Seeing she was still looking over the room, I resumed doing so as well and she explained, "Lansing is the guy you and your friends will want to talk to about shutting this place down…" I took this in, nodding to myself as she resumed, "… Never caught his first name, but he's the caravan boss who set this place up. Guy's from California but led a pretty big group out here. Good eye for business even if he's younger than me-"

I asked, "He the one you came in with?"

"Nah," said Calli nonchalantly before elaborating, "I came in with Mrs. Dottie Norton from the folks out by Carson City. She's usually pretty up tight for something like this, but she knows a good opportunity and Lansing is pretty smart. The boy even got Gus and his crew from New Reno on this, and his boys are serving most of the protection."

When she was done I thought out loud, "So Mr. Lansing, Mrs. Norton, and 'Gus' are the operators, huh?" I didn't recognize any of the names, but I would have known if Mr. Lansing was with Happy Trails Caravan Company since both were from California. Our community would have had some strong words for Happy Trails if any of them were involved in this since they were usually one of the more friendly trading outfits from out west. Either way, the woman replied;

"Those are the big three, yeah…" Calli adjusted herself against the wall, "… But there's at least ten other trading outfits from all over that contributed to this place knowing they'd have to hold up here for the start of winter."

I recited those names to myself in order to remember them later, but before either me or she could say anything else, I caught eyes with Doyle across the room still at the table with Pryor. It appeared that only Nathan was gone from the table, and when I saw Doyle, I saw him make a motion with his head for me to come over.

Without anything else, I pushed my back off the wall and said to my companion of the past ten minutes, "Excuse me, I need to go, but it truly was nice talking to you."

But, before I could take a step, she stopped me in my tracks by saying just as seductively as she did in her extraordinary offer to me alone, "Oh no you don't…" I faced her and she added, "… You forgot to pay me, sweetie."

Her hands caressed my burly coat as her eyes looked me up and down like I was still a client of hers. With a confused expression, I told her, "I'm sorry? I don't believe you and I did anything you charge for."

Still moving her hands up and down the length of my coat and speaking in that same tone, she said, "The fun stuff, no. But ten minutes is ten minutes."

The part of me that wanted to argue was just as strong as the part that wanted to stuff her pocket full of money or bullets and get over to Doyle. However, before I could say anything or pull away from her grip that said I could not leave despite the delicacy of it, she said in almost a whisper, "You're a Godly man. You don't want a sweet little thing like me to get hurt for wasting ten minutes, right? Santos over there has been eyeing us pretty hard."

I figured "Santos" was a bouncer who'd been watching us, but whether or not he was watching us, or whether or not she was lying about the possibility of her getting hurt for a conversation that didn't result in sex, I simply didn't know. What I did know was that I did consider myself a Godly man, and she knew that whether she lied or not, I wouldn't allow even the possibility of physical harm to come to her. Reaching into my pocket, I withdrew a small jewelry sack that I knew contained 10 of our community's silver coins bearing the cross and placed it in her hands. Her eyes widened and she asked;

"How much is in here? I was just gonna charge you my standard rate?"

She released her grip on my coat, and I replied, "Ten. Consider it compensation for your soon-to-be unemployment… That or proof you don't need to sell yourself when something else can come along if you have a little faith."

I winked at her, she pocketed the money, and winked back at me. I don't know if she would ever leave the line of work she obviously enjoyed, but with that exchange, I believe I let her know that the opportunity to change was always there.

She looked back out at the room, and with her last words being, "I'll try to keep my head down" I stepped towards Doyle praying it wouldn't come to that.